


(Not Just) Father's Day

by HanukoYoukai



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Family, Family Feels, Father's Day, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, I just love Ben, Irondad, Minor Character Death, POV Ben Parker, POV Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanukoYoukai/pseuds/HanukoYoukai
Summary: Five times Peter spent Father's Day with Uncle BenPlus one time Tony joined themOR... No, that's about it. Just a belated Father's Day fic with a ton of feels.





	(Not Just) Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (Late) Father's Day!
> 
> So I started this before Father's Day this year, and I didn't get it done until now. But I really enjoyed writing it, and I thought people would enjoy reading it, so I'm just gonna post it late. 
> 
> This is mostly from Ben's POV. I love him, and want more of him out there, if only because his influence on Peter's character is tremendously wonderful.

1.)

Ben shouldn’t have been surprised. It was only a month ago that Peter had come to him, worried about the gifts they were making for Mother’s Day (popsicle stick picture frames that were decorated with paint with beaded necklace to go with). Peter fretted, and while Ben had tried to put his mind at ease—telling him that May would never replace his mom—he discovered the root of the problem was not that he didn’t want to make May a gift, but that the craft itself was not suitable to his needs.

_May doesn’t really wear necklaces! I want it to be the perfect present for my May, Uncle Ben. I’m the only one in class who has a May, which makes me special, and I want her to know she’s special, too._

This kid.

But when he woke up to Peter at the foot of his bed, big brown eyes sparkling below a mop of messy brown curls on Sunday morning, he was most definitely surprised, and somewhat worried. Peter didn’t usually come to them so early in the morning unless he had a nightmare. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, wincing at the morning light just breaking through the window.

“What’s up, buddy?” he asked through a yawn, gesturing for Peter to come closer. May snuffled in her sleep and rolled over, away from the boys and the morning light creeping into their room. Peter wasted no time clambering into the bed with two clumsily wrapped gifts in his tiny hands. He grinned as he shoved them forward, and Ben had to reach out quickly to snatch them from the air before they fell. He frowned a little, as he glanced between Peter and the gifts. One was light and rectangular, and the other was heavy and oddly shaped. He set them both in his lap, taking in the glittery tissue paper tied off with a yellow ribbon. With a furrowed brow he glanced between Peter and the gifts, trying to determine what the occasion could be. Peter grinned, showing off the gap where he lost his two front teeth. Ben stuttered a little, unsure of himself.

“You’re s’posed to open them, Ben,” he said with a giggle. May snorted a little and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She tossed her long brown braid over her shoulder, squinting between them.

“What’s going on?” she asked, smacking her lips a little and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Um, Peter wants me to open presents? Is it my birthday again?” Ben asked, a small, bemused smile forming on his face. Peter giggled again and May looked between them, recognition dawning on her face. She smiled brightly.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “It’s a special occasion, huh Peter?” she asked with a wink. Peter nodded, bright smile never leaving his face. He tugged his Iron Man pajama top in excitement. “Maybe I need to make pancakes.”

“What’s the occasion?” Ben asked, perplexed.

“Benny you gotta open your presents!” Peter exclaimed, jumping up and down a little on his knees. Ben stared at them both, bemused, and slowly opened the heavy lumpy gift on his lap. He carefully tore off the paper, revealing a champagne colored stone with a little handprint. Ben flipped it over to see “Peter Parker— age 5” written on the back. Ben turned it back over and stared at the small hand, swallowing against a tightening feeling in his throat. He looked back into Peter’s eyes, who stared at him with a shy expression.

“Buddy… wow is this _your_ hand?” Peter nodded. “You made this?”

“Miss Mackenzie helped,” Peter said, twisting his fingers together and blushing. Miss Mackenzie was his _favorite_ preschool teacher. “But I did the other one all by myself! I even put the picture inside—” with a gasp he clasped his hands over his mouth, eyes widening. May pressed her lips together, holding in a laugh.

She turned to her husband and cleared her throat. “Maybe you should open it. I’m awfully excited to see what else Peter made for you.”

Ben set the handprint down on his nightstand before turning his attention to the other present in his lap. He tugged the tissue paper away, and he felt his eyes burning a little at the object in his hands.

He held a small, wooden picture frame, decorated with red, white and blue paint. He took in the details as Peter babbled about making it at school. In the corner was a crudely drawn Captain America shield, _“I hope you like it. I still think Iron Man is cooler, but I know Captain Rogers is your favorite—”_ and at the top in Peter’s childish scrawl were the words _World’s Best Ben!_ The frame encased a photo of the two of them in the kitchen, sauce all around Peter’s mouth and Ben grinning and brandishing a wooden spoon at him. He was so taken by the image that he hadn’t noticed Peter had gone quiet.

“Is it okay?” Peter whispered, catching Ben’s attention. Ben looked up and caught Peter’s Bambi-like eyes with his own. Peter’s smile dimmed a little, and Ben realized his silence was confusing the boy.

“It’s great, Pete. I love it. This is the best present I’ve ever gotten,” he choked out, smiling, feeling a flutter in his stomach and a flush of pride as he examined the craftsmanship. His kid certainly had a good eye and steady hand.

Peter’s grin was like the sun coming out. He launched himself forward and hugged Ben tightly. “Happy Father’s Day, Uncle Ben,” he said into the man’s ear. Ben felt his heart fill at the words, and he cleared his throat to keep his emotions at bay. Father's Day. Today was _Father's Day._

“Thank you, son. Thank you so much.”

* * *

2.)

When Ben woke, the sun was blocked by the dark black out curtain May insisted on buying when she was moved to the nightshift. He groaned and rolled over, feeling his age more and more as his joints cracked and a dull pain settled in between his shoulder blades. Not that 53 was old by any means. The Parkers had a lot of longevity in their blood.

Didn’t stop him from aching, though.

He reached out to his nightstand, between the pictures of his wife and nephew and grabbed his glasses. He blinked blearily before he shoved them on his face. Finally, after the world came into focus, he shifted to look at the alarm clock. It read 10:30 AM. He frowned, reaching back to May’s side of the bed, now cool. Clearly, she had risen a while ago.

Ben startled as he heard the creak of his bedroom door, turning towards the noise. Peter was slowly creeping in, an over-large mug cradled between his hands and Ben realized the boy didn’t know his uncle was awake. He lied still as he watched his nephew step carefully toward the bed, not looking up, face screwed up in concentration as he crossed the bedroom. Ben smiled as he saw the liquid barely sloshing beneath the rim of the mug. Peter poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he neared the nightstand. After he set the mug down carefully on the wooden surface, Ben lunged toward him with a roar, catching Peter around the middle and hauling the boy up on the bed. Peter shrieked at suddenly being launched into the air, then giggled as he was settled beside his uncle. Ben chuckled, smoothing his nephew’s wayward curls into place—an ever-losing battle he faced every day. Peter straightened his new glasses, making sure they were settled evenly on his face. Ben had stopped wearing his contacts (excepting certain occasions) to be in solidarity with his nephew. Parkers stick together, after all.

“Happy Father’s Day, Ben,” Peter said after he recovered his breath. Ben grinned, wrapping his arm around the boy. “Me and May picked out that mug for you. But I did all the writing and pictures on it,” he said, proudly. Ben grabbed the mug, careful not to spill the liquid inside—which turned out to be coffee. Ben braced himself before taking a sip—to this day May still couldn’t make a decent cup—and was pleasantly surprised at the drink. “And May let me make the coffee. I watched you a bunch of times, so I hope I did it right. Is it good?”

“This is great! Don’t tell May, but it’s better than hers,” he said with a wink.

“I heard that.” Ben looked up with a sheepish smile, staring at the beautiful woman who stood with her arms crossed in the doorway. Her smile was warm, and her eyes twinkled with good humor. She tilted her head to the cup in his hands. “Check it out. Peter worked really hard on it.”

Ben lifted the black mug and examined the white marks all around the mug. Peter had drawn a baseball and underneath had written “Let’s Go Mets!” in his childish scrawl. Beside it was what looked like case with a wrench next to it—most likely Ben’s toolbox. On the other side were three stick figures, the tallest with a small ponytail to the side of its head and glasses, the middle with long flowing hair, and the smallest between them with spirals around the head and glasses on its face. Peter wrote, “Happy Father’s Day!” above and, “Love, Peter,” below. Ben ran his fingers over the stars and smiley faces that were scattered all over the mug.

“Thanks Pete. I love it.”

“I love you, Benny,” Peter responded, snuggling into him.

“I love you too, bud.”

* * *

3.)

Ben laughed as he stumbled through the apartment, letting his nephew lead him by the hand. May’s sleep mask really did a great job of blocking out everything. “Pete, I’m an old man. I’m gonna trip!”

“Geez, Ben, you’re _not_ old. Why do you and May keep saying that?” Ben didn’t have the heart to remind Peter that most of his classmates’ parents were about a decade younger than his own, but it certainly didn’t change matters. It could be difficult to find common ground when your kid’s best friends’ parents were in their early-thirties, whereas May and Ben—well—were not. At least May was a _little_ closer in age to their new peers. “I promise I’m not leading you down any stairs or anything, but it’s a surprise, okay? We’re almost there.” Ben chuckled at Peter’s tone. His exasperation was clear, but his excitement still shone brightly through. After a couple of turns and brushes against furniture, Peter halted and let go of Ben’s hand. “Put your hands in front of you,” Ben complied, holding them out. “No, no I mean hold them like I’m about to hand you something—there. Okay, here you go,” Ben felt a rough fabric pressed against the palms of his hands. He held onto it with one while he removed the blindfold with the other. Once he regained his sight, he saw a green apron in his hand. The stitches were rough and not exactly straight, but as he let it unfurl to its full length, he saw it was large enough to fit his frame. On the front There was an iron-on that said _King of the Kitchen_ with his name in block letters below.

“I got the pattern and iron-ons at Walmart, and Aunt May helped me with her sewing machine,” Peter said with a grin. The top of his head was level with Ben’s chest. It was amazing how quick he grew. Just around the corner he would be starting 4th grade. It was unbelievable.

“You make the best gifts, bud,” Ben said, trying it on. He wrapped the strings around his waist to tie in the front. Peter glanced behind him. Ben followed his gaze, and finally took in the sight of their kitchen, noticing several items on the counter—including a bag of onions and jar of pickle spears. He moved to the counter to examine the rest, picking up a package of flank steak. Peter cleared his throat when Ben turned around with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, well I was hoping you might want to—uh—teachmehowtomakerouladenandspaetzle?” Ben blinked, trying to sort out what his nephew said.

“Teach you how to make… rouladen? And spaetzle? Is that what you said?” Ben lamented he was not able to make this childhood favorite of his very often. Between his long hours at work and Peter’s overall disinterest with cooking, he never really found the time to share his Nana’s recipe with his nephew. He felt his heart flutter at those hopeful brown eyes, and he couldn’t seem to stop grinning. Peter nodded as he moved beside him. Ben pulled his nephew into a tight hug. “I would love to! Your Great Nana taught me how to make this. Rich was always jealous because he never could get it quite right. Just you wait, kiddo. There’s a lot of history with this recipe….” Ben rambled on, moving Peter to the sink to wash his hands.

He couldn’t ask for a more wonderful gift.

* * *

4.)

Ben’s eyes shot open at the sharp trill of his alarm, and his arm snapped out quickly to shut it off so he wouldn’t wake May. He looked out the window into the twilit sky, grinning. The man carefully climbed out of bed, for once able to ignore the nagging ache that pulled his shoulder and back. He stretched before doing a fast but thorough wash-up in the bathroom, then got dressed. Then Ben crept down the hallway to Peter’s room and quietly opening the door.

“Pete?” he whispered. Peter grunted before rolling over. He moved swiftly to the bed and turned on the lamp at the bedside table. “Peter,” he whispered a little louder, reaching out a hand to shake his shoulder.

“B’n ‘m sleepin’ go ‘way,” the boy murmured, pulling the covers over his face.

“Peter,” Ben chuckled, pulling the covers away. Peter whined and rubbed his eyes before sitting up. Ben snagged his glasses off the nightstand and handed them to Peter, who blearily pushed them on his face. He smacked his lips a little before yawning, stretching as he woke.

“What time is it?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“It’s 4:30,” Ben whispered.

“What?!” Peter asked loudly. Ben shushed him.

“May is still asleep,” he whispered, gesturing for quiet.

“Of course she is, it’s four in the morning!” Peter said grumpily, shaking his head a little as he woke up.

“Buddy, it’s Father’s Day,” he said with a smirk.

Peter blinked at him in confusion.

“You said you’d go fishing with me, this year,” Ben reminded. Peter blinked again before realization dawned on him.

“ _You never said you fish at four in the morning!_ ” he hissed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Geez, finishing his first year of middle school really brought the snark out.

“Come on!” Ben was excited as he left the room, “Wash up and get dressed and so we can go. We can grab some Mickey D’s for breakfast,” he said, pulling the door shut.

Sometime later they were on a desolate highway going nowhere, McMuffin wrappers forgotten in the backseat. Ben half-expected a quip from Peter about the time of day or lack of population, then realized he was asleep against the window. Ben laughed a little at his nephew’s soft snores before switching the radio to NPR, allowing Peter a bit more shuteye. When they finally parked by the lakeside, the sun was kissing the horizon.

After shaking Peter awake the two of them set up camp chairs by the lake. Ben adjusted his line and Peter mimicked him and passed him his pole when he was done. Ben was pleased that he only had to make minor adjustments. “You’ve always been a quick study,” he chuckled, passing the pole back. Peter wrinkled his nose as Ben pulled a worm out of a Styrofoam container.

“Thanks,” he said slowly, wincing as Ben hooked the worm. “Uh, Ben? Do we have to use live bait?”

Ben shrugged. “No, but nothing works better,” he said looking up at his nephew, taking in his expression. His face was twisted in a little, disgusted grimace, but his eyes held a small look of remorse. The man sometimes struggled with how gentle Peter’s heart was. His kindness was his greatest strength, but it would be his greatest burden as well. Ben shrugged a little, nodding down to his tackle box. “There’s some salmon eggs in there if you like. Never brought me much luck at this lake, but who knows, maybe you’ll do better with it.” Peter nodded before finding the jar of red eggs Ben was talking about. He baited his own hook, grumbling about the smell of the bait, before casting his line. Ben followed suit.

They sat quietly for the next few moments, listening to the croaking of tree frogs as they watched their lines. Peter kept glancing between Ben and his fishing pole.

“Ben?” his voice was quiet, but it still shattered the tranquility of the space.

“Yeah, son?” Ben replied, just as quiet. He leaned back in his chair and reached to the side to pull his backpack in his lap.

“I’m bored.”

“You said anything I wanted,” Ben said with a grin.

“Well, yeah,” Peter shrugged helplessly.

“Well I like fishing. I’ve been wanting to take you with me for ages, but we _still_ haven’t gone in all these years. I’m surprised May let you out of her sight for this,” Ben laughed. Peter shrugged again, pulling in on himself. May meant well, but she could be a little overbearing. Ben needed to talk to her about having a looser grip on the reins with him. The boy was growing up, after all.

Peter sighed. “I know, Ben. It’s just… really quiet.”

“Fish like the quiet,” Ben said, passing a thermos to Peter. Peter examined it before pouring some contents in the cup attached. His face lit up in a grin.

“You made cocoa? Awesome!” he exclaimed, downing half the mug in one go.

“Parker tradition,” Ben said with a wink. Peter looked at him, eyes full of questions. “Do you have something you want to ask?”

“Won’t all this talk bother you while we’re fishing?” Peter asked, hunching into himself. Ben worried about him. His attitude and body language had implied that he thought he was trouble for his aunt and uncle. It seemed like he thought he wouldn’t be welcome, anymore, and Ben picked up on it without any words needing to be said. Ben wondered how Peter could possibly get the idea that he was a burden in his head, but he was doing everything in his power to fix it.

“I said the fish like quiet, not _me_ ,” he laughed. Peter relaxed a little and smiled at his uncle’s good humor. “You’re supposed to say, ‘What tradition, Ben?’”

Peter laughed, taking a sip of his beverage. “What tradition, Ben?” he quipped back. Ben sighed, pouring himself some coffee from his thermos.

“Every time my Pops took us fishing, he always packed a thermos of cocoa for me and Rich,” he said, remembering how he and his little brother would fuss and fight over who got the first cup, while his Pops would chuckle and warn them that they were scaring off the fish. “I was always excited about it because Pops made the best damn cocoa. I still can’t get it right.”

Peter smiled into his cup. “Hard to imagine someone making a better cup of cocoa than you could, Ben.”

Ben felt a swell of pride at the words. “Well, thanks. Glad you approve.”

Quiet settled over them again. Peter shuffled around a little, pulling his bag closer to him. Ben topped off his coffee before speaking again. “Man, those trips were always the best. When I was about your age, Pops decided I could try some of his coffee mixed with my cocoa.”

Peter giggled a little, shifting his pole.

“Your Dad was so upset about it, but he was a smart little guy. He managed to steal Pops’ thermos when he wasn’t looking. But I’m pretty sure Pops was on to him because when he took a sip and choked on it because of the taste, Pops just laughed his ass off and asked for the thermos back,” Ben laughed, shaking his head. Peter looked enraptured. “You know, Pops would take us all over, but I loved it when we came here. This is my favorite place to fish.”

“You fished here when you were a kid?”

“Sure did. Your dad, he _loved_ fishing, especially here. He always came home with a catch. Always said I was too loud for the fish to take the bait,” Ben eyed the contents of his mug, not paying his fishing rod much attention. “Still wanted to go fishing with me though. Rich was something else.”

“Hey, Benny?” Ben looked over at Peter, surprised at the nickname that had been slowly falling out of use.

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Um… can you… never mind,” he mumbled, pulling his hood over his head. Ben stared at him, patiently. “It’s dumb,” Peter muttered, hiding his face in his hood as well.

“Nah, from a smart kid like you? No question is dumb.”

Peter shuffled around before sighing. “I just, I was wondering if you could… tell me about him? About Dad?” he asked, turning his face toward him. He carelessly chewed his thumb nail, waiting for his answer. Ben heard all the things he wasn’t saying. He could see that Peter was struggling against this idea that loving Ben as a dad would somehow hurt the love he had for Rich, or that wanting to know him would somehow hurt Ben. Peter was at an age where all these pieces of his history helped form his identity, and he already struggled because of the little he knew about his parents. He was so young when he lost them.

“Well, I can tell you he never developed a taste for coffee, after that,” Ben began with a grin, before telling Peter as many stories about his brother as he could. He had Peter laughing so many times he was almost afraid he’d set off an asthma attack. May’s paranoia was rubbing off on him.

“So wait, how did he get it in the vents?” Peter asked, pulling his glasses off so he could wipe the tears of mirth out of his eyes.

“Damned if I know, kid. All I know is that he rigged it so that these chemicals would mix together when the principal opened the door, and foam would drop down from the ceiling. And it worked! Rich was so smart it was ridiculous. Never got caught, either,” Ben looked at Peter who had a sad kind of smile on his face.

“Thanks, Ben.”

“Any time, kid. Any time you want to know _anything,_ you can ask me, got it?” Ben said as he grasped Peter’s shoulder in his hand.

Peter nodded and wiped his nose. He reached down and brought his backpack out, unzipping it. “So, I made you this, for Father’s Day,” he said, putting a carefully wrapped box in his uncle’s hands. Ben looked at Peter with raised eyebrows. “I thought since we’re spending this quality time together that I could give it to you now,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Peter, you want me to open your gift without your aunt watching us?” Peter blushed a little and let out a huff.

“Well, honestly yeah. Because you know, _she_ gets all emotional and freaked out, and then _I_ get all emotional and freaked out, then _you_ have to deal with _two_ emotional, freaked out people on your special day before we can all calm down and eat dinner. I figure this way we can skip a bunch of unnecessary steps.” Ben laughed good and hard at that, knowing there was a certain truth to his nephew’s words. After he calmed down, he glanced at Peter’s grinning face before opening the gift. He carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a cardboard box that was taped shut.

“Geez, kid, how many rolls of packing tape did you use on this?” Ben laughed, pulling out his pocketknife to slice through the tape, listening to Peter huffing beside him. Ben pulled open the box to reveal a long, plastic tube that was painted in red and blue, and capped in black on either end. Ben lifted it out of the box and turned it to see on the end was a lens. He looked back up at his nephew with a furrowed brow, but slight smile. “Is this a telescope?”

Peter nodded, pouring the last of his cocoa into his cup. “Yeah. I made it in shop? For my final project. You know, everyone was making catapults, but I was already pushed to the special projects by our teacher. Anyway, I got permission from Mr. West to do this instead because I know how much you want to go stargazing and Father’s Day was coming up so—”

“I love it,” Ben said, cutting Peter off so that the boy could breathe. “I can’t believe you made this.” Peter blushed a little and rubbed his nose. “It’s not a big deal, Uncle Ben. I like putting things together.”

“This is _amazing,_ Peter. I know grown men who can’t do something like this,” Ben praised, incredibly proud of the boy he was raising. “That brain of yours, son, it’s gonna take you so far.”

“Ben, we’re trying to avoid emotional freak-outs, remember?” Peter said, embarrassed. Ben barked out a laugh and set the telescope to his side.

“Thanks buddy.”

“You’re welcome,” Peter said, looking at his half-full mug. “Hey, Ben?”

“What’s up, kid?”

“Do you think—uh—that I can try some of your coffee?” Peter was so shy in asking, glancing at Ben through the corner of his eye. Ben chuckled and took the cup from Peter, topping it off with the last of his coffee from the thermos.

“Don’t tell May,” he said sternly as he handed it back, but the smirk on his face gave him away. Peter grinned and nodded before taking his first taste of Ben’s favorite drink.

* * *

5.)

“Are the lunches packed?”

“Yes, May.”

“And what about the camp chairs?”

“Of course, dear.”

“And the blankets? What about the matches and kindling? Did you pack the first aid kit?”

Ben wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her forehead. “May. It’s a picnic, not survival camp. Calm down,” he chuckled, swaying back and forth with her in his arms. May huffed and broke away from him, grumbling as she made her way to the kitchen. The door opened and shut. Ben turned to see Peter dropping a small pile of mail on the counter, next to his Father’s Day gift. Ben grinned at the photo again, looking at the mirth in May’s eyes as she received a kiss on the cheek from him. He was glad Peter was making good use of the camera they managed to get him for his birthday. The boy had a real knack for photography.

“Okay, Ben, I just gotta grab my hoodie real quick, in case we stay out late or it gets breezy at the waterfront,” Peter said as he wandered back to his room.

“Sure, that’s fine Pete,” Ben called as he picked up the pile of mail and sorted through the letters. It had been a few days since they last checked the mail. Bill, bill, junk, coupons, bill—his fingers paused, gripping the edge of a thick, white envelope, a blue and yellow crest in the center. It was addressed to “The Parents/Guardians of Peter B. Parker.” Ben slowly pulled the letter from the pile and set the rest back on the counter, a smile forming on his lips.

“Ben? What is that?” May asked as she joined him, peeking over his shoulder. Ben shook his head wordlessly at her, showing her the envelope. May gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth. “Is that from—”

“Yeah… yeah it is. It’s from Midtown,” Ben said hoarsely.

Peter came out of his room and took in his aunt and uncle staring at a letter. “Hey guys? Everything okay?” He asked tentatively. Ben and May shared a look before turning to their nephew. Ben held out the envelope to Peter.

“Well, son, I think you need to open this,” he said with a grin. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as he crossed the room to take the letter from Ben’s hand.

“Why? It’s just— _oh my God._ ” Peter gaped at the letter, jaw hanging open as held the envelope tightly in his fingers.

“Peter, Peter it’s from _Midtown!_ ” May exclaimed, hopping up and down a little. Peter looked up at his Aunt and Uncle, shaking his head a little.

“I—”

“You have to open it!”

“But—”

“Peter, you finally got your letter!” May was squealing with excitement, stepping towards Peter as she twisted her hands together. Ben stared at Peter, watching his nephew carefully as the smile slipped from his lips. Peter was suddenly pale and a little sweaty, taking a step back, eyes darting between the letter and his guardians. His hands trembled and his bit his lip, his insecurity plainly written on his face.

“Buddy, what’s wrong?” he asked, moving toward his nephew until they were within touching distance. Peter sniffed a little and let out a shaky breath.

“It’s just… what if I don’t get it?” he asked, quietly. Ben laughed a little. Clearly the kid got in. They didn’t send the thick packet to people who were rejected, or even on the waitlist. Peter’s wide brown eyes caught his, and Ben’s smile faltered again. “I mean, it’s… it’s so expensive.”

Reality crashed over the elder Parker at once. The scholarship. What if Peter didn’t get the _scholarship?_ As far as Peter knew, the scholarship was the only way he could attend. He didn’t know Ben was talking to his supervisor about pushing back his retirement and taking a draw from his pension. He didn’t know that May was taking a new position at the hospital with higher pay but a more hectic schedule. Ben and May had discussed it at length and decided this was the most important thing they could do for their child’s future. Peter was 14. It was not his job to worry about how his education—or any other necessity for his well-being—was going to be financed. May drew level with Ben, smiling softly at her nephew.

“Peter,” Ben said after clearing his throat. He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and gripped it firmly, making Peter look up at him. “Son, it’ll work out,” he placated.

“But Benny,” Peter began, forlorn, lower lip trembling a little. Ben shook him gently before releasing his shoulder.

“Hey, we won’t even know until you open it,” he said, kindly. Peter exhaled and nodded sharply, then slowly tore open the envelope. He pulled out a thick packet of papers and unfolded them, then adjusted his glasses before he started to read aloud.

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Parker, this letter is to inform you that your child, Peter B. Parker has been accepted at Midtown School of Science and Technology,” Peter paused and grinned, and May clapped her hands a little. “Please see the enclosed list for supplies needed to ensure Peter’s success for his first year. An additional page has been included for families that applied for financial aid—” Peter cut himself off, flipping through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. He blinked a few times, taking in the words.

May and Ben waited with bated breath.

“I… I got it. I got the scholarship,” Peter said, handing the letter back to Ben. Ben’s eyes roved over the page, taking in words like, _outstanding results_ and, _full coverage of tuition and fees._ “Oh my God. _Oh my God!_ I got it. _I got it!_ _I GOT IT!_ ” he ranted, jumping up and down. May pulled him into a warm embrace jumping up and down with him and shrieking her delight. Ben lowered the page and watched them, grinning so hard he could feel his jaw twitching. Peter let go of May and threw himself at Ben, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. Ben held him tightly, wrapping his own arms around his shoulders.

“See? You see, son? Genius like you, they couldn’t say no,” he said, tears escaping his eyes. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it,” he said, kissing the top of Peter’s head. Peter pulled back with a grin so big, Ben wouldn’t be surprised if his face hurt as much as Ben’s own. The picnic was momentarily forgotten as May and Peter babbled about how to respond to the letter, new school clothes, what Peter would even be learning, and Ben sat back, feeling his heart swell to capacity as he watched his family. Peter’s future was essentially secured. This school was the bump he needed to get into some of the Ivy Leagues Ben knew the kid was worthy of. This was possibly the best Father’s Day he ever had. His son was going places, and Ben was going to help him get there, one way or another.

Ben wiped his eyes surreptitiously, and if it drew attention to the fact that he had been openly weeping for the last ten minutes, neither Peter nor May called him on it.

* * *

+1.)

Tony sighed as he put his phone down yet again. _Calm down, Stark. You don’t need to check up on the kid. You just saw him yesterday,_ he thought to himself as he pulled a cold water from the minifridge in his workshop. It was a great addition. Peter gave him the idea when the kid got so wrapped up in a project he forgot to eat. Tony was about to lecture him on how dangerous that was for his metabolism, how dangerous it was for even a _non-enhanced_ (he tried to stop using the word normal, once he realized that was something that hurt the kid’s feelings) person, when FRIDAY had the _gall_ to remind him that his last meal was 36 hours before that.

Traitor.

Nevertheless, it was a good point. Tony had a minifridge set up the next day, so the next time Peter visited, they were stocked up and ready to go. He cracked open the bottle, taking a sip before picking up his phone and playing with the screen. Honestly, the kid was fine. Tony knew it. He was just behaving oddly, lately. Not that Tony _really_ noticed. He didn’t notice that the kid started getting this sad, far-off look on his face right after finals. He didn’t notice that he was dropping more tools or being idle during lab time. He didn’t notice that Peter left on Saturday in the _afternoon_ when normally he would just stay the night—

Tony set his water bottle on the table then scrubbed his face with his now-free hand. Yeah, Tony needed to quit kidding himself.

Maybe he didn’t have to _call._ He could just—send a text. That was normal, for them, right? He would text the kid periodically. He scrolled through his contacts, pulling up a conversation history with the kid. The last text he sent was a Spider-Man meme where the hero’s body was contorted oddly with the caption, _I’ve got the moves like Jagger_ beneath. Peter responded, _omg mr stark ur old._

Kids.

He thought about it for a while, carefully constructing what he wanted to say. After minutes of deliberation, he crafted the perfect message to describe his concerns for the kid’s wellbeing.

_Hey, kid._

Tony nodded with satisfaction, putting down his phone and returning to his Nano-tech. Pretty soon he would be able to figure out how to fit the whole suit and then some into a small housing unit. He tinkered away, resolutely ignoring the clock on his phone, letting himself get a little lost in his project. He was on edge, waiting for the buzz of an incoming message, getting more and more alarmed when he didn’t get a response. The kid always answered right away, the exception being when he was in school. Finally his phone vibrated, the sound of the device buzzing against the metal table was jarring in the silence. Tony grabbed his phone, but his face fell when he discovered it was just a reminder from Happy about the meeting he and Pepper were going to tomorrow. He sighed, flipping back to his conversation with Peter and looked at the time stamp on his message. It had been 45 minutes since he sent it. He frowned and decided to follow up.

_Just checking in._

_Wanted to make sure you were alright._

_Because you know, mentor-type responsibilities are at play_.

Tony scowled and dropped his phone on the table again, putting his face in his hands. God, he sounded so _stupid._ He could just ask Peter, like a normal person, but they didn’t really have any kind of _normal_ relationship, did they? They were both superheroes, they had a mentor-protégé type thing going on, but if Pete knew Tony thought of him as _the kid he didn’t even know he wanted?_ He was pretty sure that would be the end of lab time. Tony wouldn’t even blame him. How weird would that be? Tony wasn’t even like that with Obi when he was a kid, and the man practically _raised_ Tony.

His phone buzzed several times in quick succession. Tony reached out and unlocked the screen, sighing in relief that Peter finally got back to him.

_Sry mr stark. Im in the middle of something. text u later k?_

_Im fine, dont worry_

_Turning my phone off ttyl_

Tony frowned and put his phone down, wondering what could be going on. The kid never left the workshop early. This whole week he had been down, for lack of a better word. Tony didn’t ever see anything other than _irritated-at-being-ignored_ Peter, or _everything-is-rainbows-and-sunshine_ Peter. _Kicked-puppy_ Peter was a rare expression these days, and it tore at his heart to see it.

The man sighed as he ran his hands through his silvering hair, glancing between his phone and his project. “FRIDAY?”

“Yeah, boss?” the Irish lilt sounded through the room.

“Locate the spider-suit, Model 37-B.”

“Locating, boss.”

Tony only felt a little guilty at violating the kid’s privacy. His behavior was just too weird. Sudden mood swings and behavior changes indicated drug use, didn’t they? Tony was never really paying attention when he got high, to himself or others, and now that he was sober, he hung out with mostly sober people, so he wasn’t sure if that was an indicator. He felt like he had grabbed a pamphlet at some point….

“The suit is located in Forest Hills, New York,” FRIDAY chirped. Tony sighed and pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes.

“Elaborate,” Tony said gruffly, waving his other hand. After a brief pause, FRIDAY started rattling off an address. “No, no, where is he FRIDAY? Is he with a friend? Is that a residential address?”

“This appears to be the address of Crescent Grove Memorial Park, boss.”

A cemetery.

Tony gaped at his ceiling for a moment before closing his mouth and pinching the bridge of his nose. What the hell would the kid be doing at a cemetery on a Sunday afternoon? More importantly, why didn’t he tell Tony that’s what was going on? Tony may be emotionally stunted (as Pepper frequently reminded him) but even _he_ had enough tact to not say anything crass about it. Didn’t Peter know that?

Then again, maybe Peter knew that, but wasn’t at the cemetery for personal reasons.

Maybe he was there because he caught word of some type of criminal meeting happening there. Tony didn’t think it was that far-fetched. If he were a criminal, he’d probably host all types of meetings in graveyards. He imagined he wouldn’t have any qualms about violating the sanctity of someone’s final resting place if he were a criminal. He was a hero, though, so he had some morals.

Maybe the kid was in trouble. Maybe he was hurt but hiding it and couldn’t swing home.

Tony’s heart started racing. He knew FRIDAY would send an alert the moment Peter’s vitals got shaky, but since Peter hacked into his own suit before to keep Tony out, he wasn’t sure he trusted the protocol to function properly.

Before he knew it, he was suited up and flying to a blinking icon on a map, the last known location of Peter’s suit. It would take ten minutes from his current location.

Tony pushed it. He made it in seven.

Iron Man landed outside the gates of the graveyard. At first glance, he saw several families visiting gravestones, many with small children. No dark groups of people. No supervillain-Spider-Man fight going on. Just families paying their respects.

_Huh._

Tony climbed out of the suit and gave FRIDAY the command to fly it out of sight before he made his way through the graveyard. He felt startlingly out of place, and not because he was a billionaire in a cemetery for middle class families, but because for once he felt severely underdressed for the venue. As he passed groups of people, he noticed women in sundresses and men in button ups. Children were wearing what looked like church clothes. Tony was strolling through in jeans and an AC/DC tee-shirt that was stained from his work in the shop. As he worked his way through, he finally spotted his protégé. At least his kid was dressed normally, science-pun tee-shirt and all.

Peter sat on a thick quilt with his backpack right next to him, moving his arms animatedly as he spoke to—a headstone. Tony furrowed his brows and came closer, noticing a paper wrap and some crunched up plastic—a candy wrapper of some sort, likely gummy worms—right next to the backpack on the blanket. Peter didn’t move. His… mystery sense (Tony needed to come up with a better name or May was going to call it something _awful_ ) never seemed to go off when Tony approached, and today was no exception. As he neared, he started hearing the words come from Peter’s mouth.

“Then Flash comes up to me, right? And he goes, _‘I’d like to see you top my score, Penis.’_ God, he’s such an ass. But we checked the scores, and in calc and physics and shop I had the top scores in my year. _And_ I beat him in every subject. He was not happy. Shoved me into a locker,” he ended, quietly, fiddling with the laces of his shoes. Tony scowled. He knew some kid was giving him trouble.

“But it’s okay. He didn’t hurt me. I mean, he can’t hurt me now, and I know if I wanted to, I could beat the crap out of him, but I don’t think that’s a very responsible way to use my powers, right?” Tony came close enough that his shadow fell over Peter. Peter tensed before looking behind him, squinting up at Tony who was emblazoned with sunlight. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony cleared his throat and looked around. “Hey, kid.”

Peter stared at him for a moment before glancing back at the headstone. He looked back up at Tony. “Would you… uh… like to sit down?” he asked, grabbing the wrappers and shoving them in his backpack. Tony stepped onto the quilt and settled next to Peter as the boy put his backpack on his other side. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, but Peter had never been one to sit quietly for long. “So, uh, this is Tony Stark, Ben,” he said to the tombstone, gesturing towards Tony. Tony raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Peter looked at Tony cautiously. “Mr. Stark, this—this is Ben. Parker. My uncle,” he said quietly, gesturing back towards the stone. Tony took in words carved into the stone.

_Benjamin Franklin Parker_

_October 15, 1954 – November 7, 2015_

_Loving Husband, Father, and Friend_

_“Love the life you live. Lead the life you love.”_

Tony took a minute to collect all the facts he knew about his spiderling, waiting for the pieces to fall in place. Ben, Ben, Ben—he knew Ben. Why did he know Ben? Ben was important, but he was certain the kid hadn’t mentioned a Ben before.

But May had.

Shortly after she found out about the suit, May tore him a new one, going on about the kid’s safety, how he had responsibilities to himself before the rest of New York, how Tony didn’t have a right to try to influence her kid, and if Ben were still here he would break Tony’s face—

Ben.

_Uncle Ben._

The uncle that died right in front of Peter from a gunshot wound.

“Uh, hi, Ben. Nice to meet you?” Tony said, looking between the tombstone and Peter. Peter smiled hesitantly before turning back to face Ben’s name. They both sat in silence for a while. Tony could hear children laughing in the distance, and felt the heat of the sun beat down against his head and shoulders. Peter shuffled a little beside him, and when Tony chanced a glance, he noticed the kid was twisting his fingers together in a show of discomfort. He was a little surprised that the kid hadn’t started shouting at him for even being there. He clearly wanted to be left alone for something like this. But as Tony observed his intern, he noticed that Peter seemed like he wanted company for at least part of this visit.

“So I was just—”

“I didn’t mean to intru—”

Tony and Peter looked at each other and Peter smiled again, rubbing the back of his neck. Tony cleared his throat.

“I didn’t realize—I mean, this isn’t something that I expected when you said you were busy. Not that it’s a bad thing! It was just not what I pictured… I mean, I don’t ever… that is…” Tony struggled to find the words for Peter. His own parents had been gone for decades, and he was only at the graveyard during the funeral. He never went back.

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, sometimes I visit just to talk, but really I only have two days a year I’m gonna make sure to visit. This is just one of them.”

They sat awkwardly for an undetermined amount of time before Tony broke the silence again.

“Your Aunt said he would fight me if I ever treated you badly. Thinks he could have kicked my ass,” he said, trying for nonchalance but he couldn’t squash out the question in his voice. Peter laughed a little.

“He could have, Mr. Stark. Uncle Ben was the strongest person I ever knew,” Peter said, grinning.

Tony raised a questioning brow. “Even if I had on the Iron Man armor?”

Peter’s grin got bigger and he shrugged. “I don’t know if he’d manage to beat you up, but he would still come at you, probably with nothing but a baseball bat.” Tony’s mouth fell open in surprise and he didn’t close it until Peter’s laughter was so loud, he had to cover his mouth with his hands. “That’s just who Benny was, Mr. Stark. He protected his family from everything, even if he knew—” Peter’s smile fell off his face and he looked away, mouth in a tight line.

Tony scooched a little closer, trying to offer comfort with proximity. “Knew what?”

Peter stared at the stone for quite a while. Tony let him sit in silence, watching his expression. His eyes started to shine and get red, and he sniffled once before turning his head away from both Tony and his uncle. “Even if he knew he couldn’t win,” he whispered. He sniffled and rubbed his nose. “That’s—uh—that’s what happened. To him, I mean. We were… we were just at home, settled in for bed, and I got up to get some water? But there was this guy in our kitchen, and at first I thought it _was_ Ben, but then—then—” he choked up a little, shaking his head and clearing his throat. Tony put a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder and the kid leaned into the touch unconsciously.

Tony gave him a few minutes to collect himself, wondering. He never knew those details before, and he knew the kid for over a year now. Seeing the boy talk about how his uncle could have beat Tony in a fight gave Tony the first real smile out of Peter that he’d seen in weeks. He wanted to see it again.

“Tell me about him.” Peter looked back at Tony, rubbing the tear tracks on his face, surprise evident in his big cow eyes. Tony sighed, and gave a small shrug. “I mean, if you want. I’m sure you have great stories about a guy who would challenge me to a fight while I was fully suited up and he had nothing but a baseball bat. Sounds like my kind of people.”

Peter smiled hesitantly. “Okay,” he began, shyly. “Well, he knew I was like, your number one fan for forever, and one year he managed to get tickets to a Stark Expo, just for the two of us….”

The sun was much lower in the sky than it was when Tony first arrived, and he was still laughing at the kid’s stories about his uncle (which began after his mini-heart attack at, _“so I was that kid you saved from that crazy shooty robot at your Expo”)._ “Don’t tell May,” was a huge factor in a lot of their shenanigans, apparently.

“God, did the two of you do anything normal?” he asked as Peter finished the tail of the exploding pressure cooker. Spaghetti sauce was on the ceiling for hours, and May was still none-the-wiser.

Peter smiled. “Mr. Stark, I think your definition of the word normal is a little skewed.”

The kid had him there.

“Have you ever gone fishing?” Tony blinked at the question, wondering what it had to do with anything. He carefully shook his head. “Well, I used to go with Ben a lot. The first time he took me was on Father’s Day, actually. I didn’t know what to do for him. We normally would do like, breakfast in bed, or a picnic, or some kite flying, but that year May was working a ton of overnight shifts, so it was just gonna be me and him. I told him I would do whatever he wanted, and he said he hadn’t taken me fishing yet and he wanted to, so I said okay,” Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “Then Father’s Day rolls around, and he wakes me up while it’s _still dark_ , telling me to get ready—I could not believe how early we had to get up. But he was so excited, and I wanted to do something nice for him, because of everything he did for me, you know?” Peter leaned forward, brushing his fingers against the headstone. “May and Ben never actually wanted kids. They kind of got stuck with me.”

“They didn’t get stuck with you, kid. They got lucky with you,” Tony’s tone was firm and brokered no room for argument. Peter turned startled eyes back on him before another smile broke out on his face. He turned back to the headstone.

“Yeah, Benny said something like that, too,” he said quietly. “Anyway, we went fishing at some awful hour in the morning, and we stayed there until lunch but didn’t catch anything!” Peter laughed. “And he told me stories about my Dad, and his Dad, and we talked about school and May and girls and just about everything. He even gave me some of his coffee. It was the first time I tried it.”

Tony thought about how much coffee that kid consumed, always mixed with sugar, and winced a little. Peter’s smile started to dim, his hand dropping away from the stone in front of him.

“I miss him.”

Tony never really knew his footing around the kid, but he was getting better, and the look on Peter’s face was all he needed to act. He wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled the kid towards him, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. Peter sniffled a little and rubbed his eyes but did not fight the contact and relaxed into Tony’s grip.

“He sounds like a great guy,” Tony said, quietly.

“He was the best.”

They sat like that for a while, and for once the quiet that fell over them was comfortable. After a few minutes Peter pulled away and Tony dropped his arm to let him, rolling his shoulders to relax the twinge he felt at sitting on the hard ground instead of standing or using a chair. Together they both stood. After they stepped off the blanket Peter folded it up and shoved it in his backpack. Tony led Peter out of the cemetery, to one of Tony’s driverless cars. After the first hour in the cemetery, Tony had FRIDAY dispatch the vehicle to be ready when they were. Tony didn’t plan on driving all the way upstate, but he wanted to make sure the kid made it home safe and sound.

A short while later they pulled up in front of Peter’s apartment building. Tony put the vehicle in park and got out the same time as Peter, making his way to the sidewalk. Peter stood there with his backpack in his hands, raising an eyebrow at Tony leaving the vehicle. Tony shrugged as he moved to stand next to him. “I’m going to fly back.”

“Oh,” Peter said with a nod, shuffling his feet.

“Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday, Underoos,” Tony said, giving a nod of his own before turning away. He only made it a few steps.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony stilled and turned back around, hands in his pockets as he stared at Peter. Peter looked down at his bag and back up at Tony, then gave himself a little nod as he reached into the bag. He pulled out a small, wrapped box and held it out to Tony. Tony cocked his head to the side and walked forward until he was in touching distance of Peter, then grabbed the box. “What’s this?”

Peter shifted and rubbed the back of his neck. Tony thumbed the edge of the paper, wondering if he forgot his own birthday, or something. It _had_ happened before.

“It’s a gift. For you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I gathered that, Pete. What’s the occasion?”

Peter shrugged and dropped his hand from his neck before taking a deep breath and looking Tony in the eye. “It’s Father’s Day, Mr. Stark.”

Tony could hear his brain screeching to a halt. He swallowed looking down at the box, wrapped in red paper. There was a perfect edge he could pull away with his thumb. Tony looked up again, still gob smacked. Peter smiled a little.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being weird or anything. We just, we’re getting closer, right? I come over twice a week and stay over most weekends, and you teach me things, not just Spider-Man things or even internship things but normal things, like what series to avoid on Netflix—”

“I don’t think _BONDiNG_ is appropriate for you—” Tony began, waving the idea away with his free hand.

“—or how to ask a girl out.”

“Pete, kiddo, every young man needs help. I _know_ girls. Talking to girls is like _breathing_ for me. It’s a skill that’s been in my wheelhouse for decades.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. For a second, Peter reminded him of himself so much, he couldn’t help but grin.

“Sorry,” he said, thumbing the edge of the paper again.

“Anyway, that’s just…. I just kind of see you that way, a bit. And I know we’re not family, per se, but my whole life I’ve been raised by people who aren’t my actual parents, and I know the value of the family we choose, and you’re someone I choose to be in my family,” Peter finished, nodding resolutely. Peter stared at Tony for a full minute as a blush started to color his face. He swallowed. “I hope that’s—I hope that’s okay—”

Tony reached out and wrapped his arm around the kid, pulling him close. Peter hugged back reflexively. “Oh, uh… hi. Okay. This… is this a hug?”

Tony laughed before he released the kid. Tony swore Peter was grinning with his whole face. Finally the billionaire cleared his throat, looking back down at the gift. He lifted his eyes and peered at Peter over the lenses of his glasses. “Okay to open this now?” Peter nodded. Tony smirked and tore off the paper, then pulled the flat lid off the box.

“I uh, I made the frame,” Peter said, sheepishly. Tony pulled a framed photograph out of the box, tucking the empty wrap in the crook of his elbow and rubbing the edges of the photo frame with his fingers. The black and silver was a very mature aesthetic, and the craftsmanship was on point, but Tony didn’t expect anything less from the kid. The photo he chose was something else, though.

Peter and Tony stood side by side, Peter grinning and Tony stoic, both holding rabbit ears behind each other’s heads while gripping an upside-down certificate for Peter’s internship. Tony remembered that day vividly. Peter had just finished some modifications on his most recent project at Stark Industries: a mobile recording device. Tony knew without a doubt it would be invaluable to the media. Not only would it remove the dangerous elements for the people performing the job, it also could get places that a cameraperson just couldn’t. It was small, mobile, nigh indestructible, and had a high-resolution camera that could take photos and videos in all kinds of conditions. Peter thought the best part was that is still had to be used by a person who knew what they were doing. Photographers and photojournalists would still need to be hired to operate the device. Tony had to hand it to him. The kid had a pretty great idea, and a surprisingly good eye for camera equipment.

Since Tony finally got the official certificate (hey, he had a board to appease and a process to follow), they decided to celebrate and test out the drone for the first time that day. They posed for several goofy photos, commemorating the day Peter finally had visual proof of his internship, then Peter operated the drone while Tony flew around the compound, blasting various things and causing all kinds of mayhem. He hadn’t had that much fun in a while. When he saw the Iron Man photos later, he was stunned at Peter’s talent. He didn’t know the kid could take pictures other than selfies.

Staring at them together caused a flutter in his stomach and chest. He felt warm throughout, like how a bite of pie heats your belly. He remembered his pride at the completion of the project, reveling in the kid’s tenacity as he found every exact part and created the right code (a real feat, since coding was _not_ Peter’s forte). He remembered his joy at being able to just relax and mess around a little, and the warmth he felt hearing Peter’s laughter in his coms. He remembered how awed he was after actually seeing the end result, basking in joy from Peter’s accomplishment, because he could see how far that kid would go.

“Is it okay?” Peter asked shyly, slinging his backpack on one shoulder. He wasn’t asking if the gift was okay, or the photo, or any of that.

Tony could hear the words that couldn’t leave Peter’s mouth.

“It’s great, kid. I love it,” Tony said fondly, giving Peter a rare smile that he reserved for Pepper, Rhodey, and sometimes Happy. Pepper told him it was more proof that he had a heart. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Peter smiled back, carefree and happy as he ever was. “Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone catch my little _Far From Home_ reference? ;-)
> 
> So yeah, Ben has a bit of a German family history because... well, write what you know, right? It was influencing this story in crazy ways, too. I started coming up with this whole backstory of how May's family hated him when they met because he wasn't Italian and it was the eighties, but May ran off with him anyway.... ahem. Rouladen is delicious. My grandpa used to make this for fancy dinner parties. My sister still makes it. I make it. It's soooooo good. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment!
> 
> I has a tumblr @hanuko follow if you like. (It's boring, but I'll talk about my fics there if you want). 
> 
> Thanks for reading. :-)


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